


The Red Thread of Fate

by Quill18



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:46:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quill18/pseuds/Quill18
Summary: With your mother dead and brother stolen away, you must find your father. One shot.





	The Red Thread of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonBandit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBandit/gifts).

> This fic is a prequel to this prompt/request by Coin Manatee. I've aged up Wanda a bit though.  
\--  
Wherein, Apocalypse never happens but it's the same time period of 1983. Erik Lehnsherr is a metal worker in Poland. No one knows who he is. And one day he comes home to find that there is someone in his house there shouldn't be. 
> 
> Namely, a fourteen year old girl, who doesn't so much as blink when Erik sends all the knives in his house quivering against her body. She tells him her name is Wanda Maximoff. She tells him that her brother has gone missing.
> 
> Erik demands to know what she's doing in his house. And why she expects him to care about some boy he's never met
> 
> "Because he's your son." Wanda says, and delicately steps out of the way as the knives crash to the ground. "And you have met him. He broke you out of prison ten years ago. So you should at least return the favour."  
And then, the rest of the fic is Wanda and Erik roadtripping their way to that facility in Logan. Wanda's powers working like the holistic detective in Dirk Gently
> 
> And Peter going slowly out of his mind with frustration as he tries to get himself out from the inside with the help of Scott, Emma (?) And whoever else was in that facility

You can't go home anymore.

Mother's dead. 

The gadje made sure of that. 

She died protecting you and your brother when they came for you. 

Tranisgen. 

Pietro fled, but well, he wasn't immune to tranquilizer darts. 

As for you? You weren't home. College. First one in the family. Mother was proud. 

You refuse to think about the rest, you refuse to think about the visions that kept you from coming home, you refuse to think of the trail of blood near your school, pietro tried to warn you, you refuse to think of the news reports of the shootings that the media called gang-related, of your family home coming up in flames in the news reports, of the ashes that you found when you braved a visit, every nerve high-strung,

of the fire-proof safe that you found, cracked open from the heat, of the charred picture that said erik  
lehnsherr and a stern man's face, arm around your mother, dated 19XX

...the visions hit

you scream and you scream

lines spiral out from the picture, stretching and tugging at your heart , reaching to gd knows where, all you know its far and a blood bond that cannot be broken

you don't know where your brother is, but you know where to find your father  
to rescue pietro, to hush the weeping and screaming and begging in your dreams, you'll need to get training and fire power. 

lots of it

\---

the safe has other things, money, your paperwork, a passport, false ids, and other things. your mother's diary, baby pictures.

the trek to poland is difficult.

your hair has been hacked off, your face hidden with scarf and sunglasses, your perfect english accent buried beneath the nearly forgotten mame-loshen of yiddish, romanes, polish. 

languages that mother sang and whispered to you, to never forget where you and pietro came from, in the hopes it will someday be safe to come "home." 

you sleep in the holds of ships, of itchy airplane chairs, hitchhiked rides, trains that you've snuck on.

the visions, the whispering, the hunches, the bone deep feeling: tell you which people are safe, which people to approach, which to avoid.

knives become your only companions, you win money with your lucky feeling, cleaning out con-men and casino alike.

\---  
never staying in one place, guilt burns in your gut.

if only you were there to help pietro, if only you were there to rescue mother.  
but you know deep down it ends in one way and one way only:

mother dead, your brother and yourself relieving your people's nightmares of the past,

the human experimentation of the holocaust.

you grip the handle of your knives, feel the slick touch of your playing cards, the smoothness of your dice, take a deep breath and keep moving.

\---  
poland's steeped in the blood of your family's people: jewish and romani. 

in the dark of the night, in the solitude of the fields, in the uncaring crowds,  
the land speaks to you

the air reeks of ash, flashes of people long-gone fleeing, bombs screaming, survivors weeping.

you blink and its gone

you blink again and you see it, 

you follow the blood red trail to what's left of your family.

\---  
the house is small, deep within the primeval l forests of poland

you climb through a window and root into it, like a burrow, like a den

it should be home but its not

pietro and you and mother and father shouldve lived here together,

but the pictures on the walls are of father and a strange woman and girl.

envy flashes green in your eyes and twists in your stomach.

you feel the itch

it spreads across your back, and your legs and your arms and down into your fingers

the door slams open, heavy footsteps thud across the wooden floors

your breath hitches in your throat

you duck under the bed and you get pulled out,  
but no hands reach for you. 

a strange magnetic force tugs at your steel-toed boots, at mother's jewelry around your neck and wrists,  
at the knives strapped to your chest, legs, arms, 

they unsheath:  
floating daggers that dig into your neck 

you glare at the man with your brother's eyes  
and whisper "Tate"

the knives clatter to the ground as he sees your age  
as you flip him off

**Author's Note:**

> Fic/Art Tumblr: https://quill18fandom.tumblr.com/  
Tikkum Olam:Genosha Project Website: https://quill18.weebly.com/


End file.
